


Jealous John Watson

by Leviisthesexiestheichou



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Bisexual John Watson, Comedy, Eric is OC, Fluff, Gay, Jealous John, John Watson - Freeform, John Watson Loves Sherlock Holmes, Love, M/M, OC Characer - Freeform, Romantic Comedy, Sherlock - Freeform, Sherlock Holmes - Freeform, fake boyfriends
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-07
Updated: 2020-04-07
Packaged: 2021-03-01 02:40:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 8,245
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23457952
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Leviisthesexiestheichou/pseuds/Leviisthesexiestheichou
Summary: When Sherlock Holmes gets a new boyfriend for a case he's working on, his flatmate seems to be jealous.
Relationships: Sherlock Holmes & John Watson, Sherlock Holmes/John Watson
Comments: 1
Kudos: 84





	1. Eric Who?!

It had been another long and boring day for Doctor John Watson. Being a doctor was fun but usually when it was mixed with adventure. A plain nine to five job wasn't as thrilling. His favorite memory of helping someone in aid was when he helped the soldier presumed dead during a case. The way Sherlock retold the story during his Best Man Speech couldn't begin to describe how thrilling it was to save a man's life under such pressure, even if he was very stressed about it. 

Lousily, John grabbed the door handle and pulled the door to reveal quite a bizarre sight. Eyes widened, John gasped as he saw two fumbling men distancing themselves after they were clearly just kissing. Sherlock Holmes was kissing someone. And this someone was a man. John didn't even know where to begin with his questions.

The stranger was incredibly handsome. He had straight, dark chocolate hair and a bit of scruff on his face that was well groomed. His body was tanned and judging by the tightly fit blue shirt, he was very fit. He was a couple inches taller than Sherlock but looked larger with his broad shoulders and thick thighs. John crossed his arms as he dared to challenge into his sparkly grey orbs.

"Who is this?" John asked in a demanding voice, not even bothering to look at Sherlock when he asked the question. The mystery man was a head taller than him, but John was determined to prove that he wasn't intimidated in the slightest. 

Sherlock smoothed his shirt and tucked his hands behind his back. "John, this is Eric. Eric, this is my flatmate John," Sherlock said awkwardly. 

Eric held out his hand and smiled at John, though it was anything but friendly. There was a sense of smugness to it, as if to say, "Jealous?" John knew that couldn't be the case, because he was not jealous. He didn't see Sherlock that way. After all, weren't a couple. John took his hand and gave him a firm handshake. 

"Pleasure to meet you," John said with a returning smile. He typically didn't smile unless he felt the need to. This was a pure power move. 

"The pleasure is all mine," Eric said in a deep posh accent. Their hands returned to their sides, and all that was left were stares. The silence was filled by small breaths and fidgeting movement from the trio. 

Sherlock cleared his throat. "Well, it was nice to see you Eric," Sherlock said, trying to break the tension.

"I still don't understand. Is Eric your-," and before John could finish his sentence, Eric did it for him.

"Boyfriend, yes," Eric said. John bit the inside of his cheek and looked him up and down. Since when did Sherlock want a boyfriend?

"What are you, like, six feet tall?" John asked in a condescending tone.

"Six foot two," Eric corrected. 

"Oh," John said.

"And you're...what, five foot five?" Eric guessed. Sherlock chuckled at that.

John felt his left hand ball into a fist. It was getting difficult for him not to just lay one on him. The audacity this man had to joke about his height was insulting. And the fact Sherlock laughed caused a twinge in his heart.

"Five foot seven, actually," John shot back.

"My apologies. I've never been good with short measurements," Eric said with the corner of his lips tugging into a smile.

John angrily went across the room and came back with a wooden stool. He placed it a foot from Eric and stood on top of it, now towering over him.

"Who's short now?" John asked. He also took the time to look at the top of Eric's head. This guy had perfect hair. He wasn't balding anytime soon.

"John!" Sherlock scolded. "Get down from there. You're making a fool of yourself," 

"It was really nice to meet you John, but I better get going," Eric said. Knowing he had won that fight, he leaned down and gave Sherlock a quick peck on the lips. "I'll talk to you later, yeah?" he murmured against the curly haired one's lips.

"Certainly," Sherlock said happily.

John stood there in awe and watched Eric close the door on his perfectly round bum...not that he was looking!

"What the hell was that?" John asked, focusing his attention to Sherlock. His arms folded defensively across his chest.

"What do you mean?" Sherlock asked innocently.

"I thought you didn't date people," John said.

If Sherlock wanted to date someone, why would he have gone for Eric? Eric didn't seem like his type. Shorter guys with blonde hair seemed much more his style. It hurt that Sherlock didn't even think to mention to him that he was in any relationship. John thought they were closer than to be keeping secrets like that from each other.

"I don't. I thought after Janine it would've been fairly obviously by now that if I'm dating someone, it's for a case," Sherlock said. He left the doorway to go sit in their living area. 

"What case? You haven't told me about any cases," John said as he followed Sherlock. Though Sherlock sat, John stood.

"I came across one three days ago. I told you all about it," Sherlock said.

"No, you didn't. You were talking to yourself while I was at work," John assumed. It was frustrating how much information he didn't know due to Sherlock's inconsiderateness.

"Oh. In any case, I'm sure I'll be done with it soon enough,"

"So you're not even going to tell me about it," John said.

And with that, Sherlock was in a different zone, escaping in his mind palace.


	2. Shark!

Sherlock had insisted on it. For some reason, Sherlock thought it would be a great idea to go on a walk with John and Eric. Why Sherlock thought that going on a walk would ease the tension between the two was beyond John. If anything, it was going to make the situation worse. Throughout the week, John and Eric had been subtly throwing snide comments at each other and exchanging glares. Sherlock wasn't the best mediator either, as he found the situation incredibly entertaining. 

So, when Sherlock said, "Let's all go for a walk." John knew that there weren't innocent intentions behind that suggestion. If anything, he probably just wanted to see other people's reactions to them quarreling. 

Despite the animosity between them, the sun was unusually shining brightly over London. Only a couple clouds scattered across the pale blue sky. A few birds streaked across and landed into the streets to aggravate their human neighbors. The city was bustling with people of all kinds. Women were gossiping about their friends, men were cracking silly jokes, and couples were holding hands while saying sweet things to each other. Unfortunately, Sherlock and Eric happened to be one of those couples.

While John was attempting to keep up with the two, they were too busy walking ahead with their hands woven together. Every time John tried to interject into the conversation, he was interrupted by a stupid comment from Eric. Sherlock didn't acknowledge him either. Instead, he focused on what Eric was saying and continued their banter as if their smaller companion was invisible. John felt like a ghost that was trapped in the human world, not able to communicate on the outside.

"I agree," John said as he rushed next to Sherlock's said. They had been talking about how the weather that day was enjoyable despite the fact they were shivering. Each time a person spoke, smoke trailed behind their words. Winter wasn't fun.

"That's why I wear this coat. It's very useful," Sherlock said to Eric, not bothering to glance at John.

"The way you turn up your collar makes you look ten times more handsome," Eric said with a great smile on his face. That was John's line!

"You are lucky. You already look handsome, and you don't even have this coat," Sherlock said as he gave Eric's hand a gentle squeeze.

"Eric, how are you not freezing? You're not even wearing a coat," John pointed out. It was meant to be a jab. Surely, Sherlock would think he's an idiot for not wearing the appropriate attire in such weather conditions. Heck, it was snowing a few days ago.

"Sherlock's warming me up just fine," Eric cooed, leaning in closer to Sherlock and almost bumping John further from them.

John's eyes were so wide that he forgot he had eyelids. The audacity the couple had to pretend he didn't even exist was astounding. What was the point of suggesting a walk together if they weren't even going to pay attention to him? In disbelief and feeling a little hurt, John dusted off his coat and trailed behind them.

"Fire exposes our priorities," Sherlock said lowly, turning to gaze around at the surrounding people. He was still interested in the world around him, even if he had to convince Eric that he was head over heels for him.

'Like me?' John thought to himself.

They ventured across the street to a nearby park. Sherlock and Eric hadn't noticed John for most of the walk at this point. Having enough, John forced himself between the two and split their hands apart.

"May we help you?" Sherlock asked with a twitch of his eyebrow catching John's eyes.

"Am I supposed to pretend that I don't exist too?" John asked bitterly.

"I'm sorry if you think we're ignoring you, John. I'm just so into Sherlock that I'm forgetting there are other people here. It's nothing personal," Eric said strongly, reaching for Sherlock's hand again and smiling when he felt the warmth of his palm connect to his frozen one.

"Well, other people are here. It shouldn't be that difficult to remember," John said.

"If you're going to be bitter, why don't you go back to the flat?" Sherlock suggested.

"I think I will," John said.


	3. Food Mood

"You're so funny," Eric cackled as he nudged the brunette next to him.

John, regretfully, had accepted the invitation to eat lunch with Eric and Sherlock at a neighboring restaurant. Typically, he would reject the request. But for some reason, John felt this need to try to get Sherlock's attention. It was out of character for John to feel so jealous of a man that didn't deserve envy. But the inseparable pair were making it harder for John to grab Sherlock's attention. He never had to fight against someone else for his attention. Cases were his only common rival.

"No, he was being rude. You don't tell someone that based off of their diet and jacket, you can tell that their daughter is obese," John said as he walked up to Sherlock's side and gave Sherlock a look of disapproval. Sherlock didn't pay any mind.

"It's not rude to point out the truth," Eric said, matching the smile that mused on Sherlock's face.

How could he be encouraging this sort of behavior? Sherlock needed someone that would put him in his place, not allow him to continue on the way he was. It was vital that Sherlock let his heart cloud his judgement at times, such as commenting on a person's weight.

"It can be depending on how you word it," John said with a roll of his eyes.

The three approached the restaurant. Eric opened the clear door with gold lining for his boyfriend. Just as John started to walk through, Eric let go of the door and followed Sherlock. Dick. John sighed and squeezed through the small space before the door squished his hedgehog body. 

There were waiters dressed nicely, all in black, with dress shirts and slacks. Though it was lunchtime, the restaurant bared no expense to ensure the place looked nice. Classical music played over the radio and every table was decorated with a blue candle. For a casual lunch outing, they were in quite a fancy place. John felt out of place in his jumper and jeans. Meanwhile, Eric and Sherlock looked like they went there every Thursday.

"Table for three," Sherlock said to the host.

The host escorted them to a red booth in the far back of the restaurant, covered in a pure white table cloth. Deep red napkins settled between shiny silverware. Stacked on the side were three large menus. Sherlock and Eric plopped together on one side, while John nestled opposite of them.

"This place is nice," Eric commented, taking a look around to see that most women had a designer bag.

"Minus the fact they keep having staff quit, I'd agree," Sherlock scoffed. He picked up a menu and shared it with Eric. Did they really have to share everything together? They might as well be sharing toothbrushes while they were at it.

"How do you-, never mind," John said as he picked up his menu. It wasn't worth asking Sherlock how he knew everything. They would be there all day.

"I already know what you want," Sherlock said to Eric with a grin, settling the menu back to the table neatly between them.

"Yeah? What's that?" Eric asked. He placed his elbow on the table and rested his hand on his chin, gazing up at Sherlock with dreamy eyes.

"Hi, can I get you anything to drink, or are you ready to order?" The waitress, Melanie, asked.

"I think we're ready. Are you ready, John?" Sherlock asked.

"Yes," John said confidently as he placed his menu down.

"What can I get for you?" Melanie asked Eric.

"He'll have water to drink and the salmon salad with Italian dressing and do hold the olives," Sherlock ordered. He waited for Melanie to finish writing on her notepad before continuing.

"I'm impressed babe. You knew exactly what I wanted," Eric said.

John did his best to hold it in. Sherlock never ordered his food for him. In fact, he mostly judged him whenever he did order something. 'Don't get that. They never cook the potatoes right,'

"I didn't know. I noticed," Sherlock said with a soft smile.

"And you, sir?" She asked Sherlock.

"I'll have-," and just as Sherlock was about to finish his sentence, he was interrupted.

"He'll have the calamari with asparagus," John ordered for him confidently. Two could play this game. Sherlock frowned and shook his head.

"John, that's completely wrong. I'm going to have linguine with tomato sauce and a glass of tea," Sherlock said. John blushed.

It was embarrassing. Every time he was with them, he felt that he was embarrassing himself. Of course he got Sherlock's order wrong. It made sense that he ordered noodles. What was he thinking ordering him squid?

"Sorry, I accidentally said my order," he lied. He had to play it off coolly.

"No you didn't. I've never seen you eat squid. Usually, you're more of a land animal person," Sherlock said. Melanie looked confused.

"What did you want to eat, sir?" she asked John.

"Chicken Parmesan with spaghetti, please," John said, feeling defeated.

Melanie nodded and left to put in their orders.

"Honestly, I don't know where your head was just then," Sherlock said. It looked pathetic how he was acting.

"I guess he doesn't notice as well as you do," Eric said offhandedly.

"I notice things," John defended, giving a stern look at him.

"Sure, you might notice things. But you don't notice things about Sherlock," Eric said. John sat there, feeling uncomfortable and said nothing the rest of the meal.


	4. Deduction or Seduction?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: There is discussion of how a person was k*lled when they deduce a jumper. There is a mention of blood. If this is a sensitive topic, then go to the next chapter!

Sherlock was sitting in the living room on the couch inspecting a white jumper with blood stains running down the front of it. It belonged to the victim of his most recent case, and Sherlock deduced that the sweater had the most important information. After multiple testings from the dust on it to the small particles of dirt, he decided to take it back home for further inspection. Eric was snuggled next to him, reading a funny post on his phone. John was in his chair, typing away about their last adventure. Their adventure that didn't involve Eric!

"What do you make of this?" Sherlock asked John, looking up at him and lowering the jumper from his view. John glanced over at the pair.

"The jumper?" John asked.

And there was that little beam of hope he needed. Sherlock didn't ask Eric for his opinion. He asked for John's. That must mean he values him at least a little more than that jerk Eric. Eric was probably extremely useless. Most male models aren't known for their intellect, unlike doctors.

"Yes," he said.

John set is laptop on the table adjacent to his chair and propped himself up. He made his way over to Sherlock and gently took the jumper from him. The lines stitched down horizontally, matching the cherry stains that indicated the person's unfortunate end. There were a few things he could go off of from it. Hopefully, his practice for deduction with Sherlock paid off.

"I'd say it's new because the material is still in tact. The owner is clean because it is perfectly white. And it looks like they received some sort of injury, a head injury maybe," John said, eyeing Sherlock for approval.

"Close but not quite," Sherlock said. 

"It wasn't a head injury," Eric said. He put is phone down and curiously looked at the jumper. From time to time, he had stolen quick looks at the jumper to see what was so important about it. Sherlock did like to analyze everything.

"How would you know that?" John asked. In part, he was annoyed and wanted Eric to fumble. But he also was interested in hearing his thoughts.

"Look at the blood pattern on the shirt. There's seeping around the collar and dripping down the front of the shirt. That suggests the person's throat was slashed when they were standing up. If it had been when they were laying down, gravity wouldn't have pulled it so low to the shirt. It's evident this person wasn't injured below the neck because there aren't any holes in the jumper," Eric said as if it were the most simplest explanation.

"Excellent, Eric," Sherlock praised.

Ouch. John did his best to conceal the pained feeling from Sherlock's clear rejection. He didn't understand why it hurt so much to not have his approval. Normally, he didn't care what Sherlock said. But now, here he was wanting Sherlock to give him confidence in his intelligence.

John took another look at it. "This is a guy's jumper based on the size of it," he said.

"Wrong again, John," Sherlock said.

John scowled and squinted at the size tag inside the jumper. It was rather large for a female's Medium.

"It's a woman's jumper. You can tell by the deodorant smell from the pits and the perfume stench," Eric said.

Since when did Eric have time to smell the sweater? And why was he smelling the jumper? When did male model's all of a sudden have a brain? Why did Eric have to be one of those models? What case did Sherlock need him for?!

"I'm guessing she's an older woman judging from the grey hair strand," John said, trying his best to gather information on the victim.

"Then you missed the fact that it's a long strand and has a different color at the root, suggesting it's dyed hair. This is a young woman. Older women don't typically have hair down to their waist," Eric said. He had plenty of experience with the fashion scene. He knew dyed hair when he saw it.

"Right again, Eric. The victim was in her twenties. She was an upcoming Instagram model," Sherlock said.

Sherlock already knew many things about her. Still, he was hoping he'd get a better opinion. Both brought up interesting points but nothing that Sherlock didn't already know.

"I take it she wasn't liked," John said. Not many women that are killed are the result of happy acquaintances.

"Or she met the wrong people. Someone who tried so hard to dress well and wanted fame online probably was catfished online. Perhaps, a predator told her that he could make her famous. I guess he achieved that but not in the way she wanted," Eric said.

Not many knew, but modeling could be a dangerous job. There were many people online posing as photographers, pretending they could make a person famous. Girls that were desperate for a modeling career took any chance they could. Sadly, that left room for abductions and other dark acts to take place.

"I knew you'd pick that up, considering you're a model too," Sherlock said, looking over at Eric with a short smile on his face.

Well how was John supposed to know that?! 

"How did I do?" Eric asked.

"Not bad for your first time," Sherlock said.

"And me?" John asked.

"Below amateur,"


	5. Fresh Pressed

It was about nine in the morning, and the sun had rudely woken John from his slumber after blinding his eyes with its loud rays. John had spent most of his time in his room that previous evening, due to the fact that a little someone was accompanying Sherlock. There it was, that random pull at his heart. It felt like someone was tearing at the veins in his throbbing muscle, but he didn't know who or why. Feeling grumpy, John got up from his bed mummy style and stretched every muscle in his back. He drearily trudged to the kitchen and started making himself a steamy cup of coffee.

"Morning," Eric said from the table. John hadn't even noticed the bloke was there. Surprised, he turned back from the machine to see something that caught him off guard again. Eric was wearing a shirt that John recognized. It was an eggplant shaded dress shirt, unbuttoned completely and loosely hanging on the sides, exposing his perfectly waxed chest and abs. Screw him.

"Is that Sherlock's?" John asked, a tinge of sharpness cutting into the name he was hating to say. He pondered whether to stare at his face, the shirt, or his abs. What? Can't a guy commend another guy for his incredible body? 

"This?" Eric asked as he looked down to his crotch.

"No. The shirt," John said irritated. He turned back to focus on his coffee, not wanting to look at the cursed image anymore. Coffee. He needed coffee with tons of cream and sugar to sweeten up this bitter morning.

"All of this is Sherlock's," Eric said with a smirk adorning his face. "Minus the briefs," he added.

John had managed not to look below Eric's waist and was relieved to know that he wasn't stark naked in his kitchen. But worrisome thoughts started to piece together in his mind. If Eric was wearing Sherlock's shirt, then did that mean they had slept together last night? And now, Eric was basking in the musk of Sherlock's sweat and tears. John didn't know whether to be more upset by the thought that they had done it when he was still in the flat or be concerned that they had physical relations like that at all.

"Right. Well," John didn't know what else to say to that. Leaving his mug on the counter, he stepped away and rushed over to Sherlock's bedroom. He hammered the door and stood there with puffs of smoke blowing out of the little man's ears. 

"Come in," Sherlock invited. 

John ripped the barrier apart and was suddenly faced with the image he never thought he'd see unless he was at Buckingham Palace. Sherlock was comfortably sitting up in his bed, shirtless with his bottom half wrapped in a sheet. His eyes were staring at the wall, indicating that he had been roaming his mind palace while he waited for the tanned model to arrive.

"Sherlock,"

"Yes?" Sherlock asked, unfazed that it was John and not Eric. Eric wouldn't have knocked on the door. He would've let himself in and accompanied him with a cheesy pickup line. 

"Can I borrow a shirt today? I seemed to have run out of clean ones," John said. There was no way he'd let Eric be the only one with one of Sherlock's shirts. Sherlock could tell he was lying but decided to play along.

"Fine, you can have that one. But you must return it in better condition than when you got it," Sherlock said, pointing to the crumpled mess on the floor in the corner of the bedroom.

John ventured to the shirt and said a small, "Thanks." Soon, he rushed out and quickly changed into it and proceeding back to the kitchen. He entered with a puff of his chest and grabbed the unbearably hot handle of his abandoned mug. 

"Nice shirt," Eric said with a snicker.

"Thank you. It's Sherlock's," John said, making sure to emphasize whose it was. Raising the mug to his lips, he blew gently into it and sipped the milky goodness down his dry throat.

"I know. He never wears that one though. Mycroft gave it to him for his birthday last year," Eric munched on the cereal John didn't notice he had been eating and licked away milk from the sides of his mouth.

"How would you know that?" John asked. Sherlock wouldn't have done that to him. He was better than that. Eric was totally bluffing.

"I almost put it on before he told me not to. He said he didn't want me reminding him of his brother," Eric said. John looked away and took a sip of his coffee, forgetting it was hot and hissed in pain at the scourging of his tongue. He smiled through the pain.

"I just needed a clean shirt since all of mine were dirty," John said casually.

"I'm sure you did," Eric said.


	6. Surprise!

It had been one long and exhausting day for John Watson. Up bright and early, he was out all day running around to complete a task list a month long. Sherlock evidently had been writing it and somehow forgot to mention it to John until it was two pages full. John tried protesting, but Sherlock was insistent that he completed it instead of himself. After a three minute argument, John was out of the flat and back later in the evening with more bags than he thought he could possibly carry. He set them down and exposed their flat. Not focusing too much, he picked the bags off the floor and carried them to the kitchen.

John came back to the foyer to hang his jacket up. As he traveled around the flat, he noticed a peculiar scene. There were blue, green, and yellow balloons sprinkled around the living space. Sky blue streamers were sprawled over the furniture and strung from the ceiling. A table that was usually placed across from the chairs was seated on the sidelines. Accompanied was another table full of snacks and plastic plates and silverware.

"What's all this?" John asked as he shrugged his jacket off and placed it on the coat hanger. 

"Decorations," Sherlock said as he finished hanging up the last streamer on his chair.

John wandered to their living area and scanned for clues.

"I know that. I meant what are they for?"

"Eric," Sherlock said. What? Did the bloke survive an illness or something? The giant banner that read "Happy Birthday" told him all he needed to know. Eric was going to be eight hundred years old. Congratulations.

"Why isn't Eric hosting his own party?" John asked.

It wasn't as common for people his age to have someone else throw them a birthday party. John couldn't remember the last time someone had hosted a birthday party for him. Then again, he didn't really celebrate his birthday. Him and Sherlock weren't celebratory people.

"Because he doesn't know about this one. I'm going to surprise him. He thinks we're having tea," Sherlock chuckled.

Again he felt that little stab in his heart, like a knife had been slowly etching inside and fiercely carving nasty words. Sherlock was not a considerate person. Besides saving him, John couldn't think of an instant where Sherlock did something nice for him just because. This was the guy that refused to get the milk or take out the trash. Old Sherlock would've forgotten it was Eric's birthday, or better yet, deleted it. New Sherlock was thoughtful and sweet.

"You've never thrown me a surprise party," John said, doing his best to hold back the hurt in his voice.

"I thought me coming back from the dead was a surprise enough," Sherlock said. John tensed at that and shook his head.

"That's not the same thing," 

One of them was a cruel, cruel thing. Letting your friend grieve over your death for two years and then laughing as you surprised him was not the same surprise as letting someone know that you wanted to celebrate the day that started their very existence. John was starting to sense that Sherlock was actually falling for this guy. He didn't even do stuff like this for Janine.

"Both are surprises," Sherlock said. Taking a step back, he peered around and walked up to streamers to tweak their placement.

"Yes, but one is to show care for your partner and another was the result of selfish acts," John said standing strongly in place.

"I don't think it's selfish to throw a birthday party,"

How insensitive! He wouldn't even acknowledge that what he did was wrong. Two years. For two years he had grieved over this idiot. And it didn't cross Sherlock's mind that it was a big deal. He came in all giggly, thinking it was some big joke. And here he was, making it a joke again as if his apology had meant nothing.

"For God's sake, Sherlock! I'm talking about us here, not Eric," John lashed out.

"Why?" Sherlock asked perplexed.

"I don't understand all of this. You say you're dating him for the case, but then you go and do thoughtful things like this for him," John said.

"I thought that was part of dating," Sherlock said.

Yes, it was part of dating. But that was the weird thing. Sherlock wasn't the guy that picked up on dating queues. Why was he now? What made Eric so special?

"It is, but...never mind," John said, feeling kicked down enough. 

"I can't help if your ego can't handle another person in my life," Sherlock said. John gave him a look. It was a look that said, "How dare you have that thought pop in your head."

"I'm going out," John said, not even bother to put his jacket back on and making his way towards the door.

"Where?" Sherlock asked.

"On a walk!"


	7. A Saddened Truth

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'd just like to make a disclaimer that drinking is mentioned, but no one is drunk!

It was a long walk. And the walk gave John enough time to think. There were so many questions he had, not just about Sherlock but also himself. They ranged from, "Why do I care who Sherlock dates?" to "What does Sherlock even see in Eric?" He was a miserable sod, marching around on the trail and imprinting the crunchy snow. His nose was red and runny, and his hat was barely keep the hothead warm. But it was worth the inner dialogue he had with himself. One thing was for certain. John, I'm not gay, Watson was in love with Sherlock Holmes. 

And that was a difficult revelation to have. Everyone had been made clear that he was not gay, not that it helped because they never believed him. His heart; however, was telling him that it didn't matter whether Sherlock possessed freaking grapes in his crotch. He was in love with him. Maybe he was bisexual and never knew. Maybe Sherlock was just that special of a person. Whatever the reason, John couldn't deny his feelings any longer to himself. The hard part would be keeping it from Sherlock.

As John shivered back into his flat, he saw that the place was a little messier than when he had left it. Wrapping paper was tossed on the floor, and streamers were shredded. It looked like quite the party. Undressing himself, he heard a familiar deep chuckle arise from the living area. Then, he saw it. Sherlock was settled by the fire in his seat. 

And Eric is in John's chair. His bloody chair. 

John strongly approached the couple and pulled up a chair, seating himself between them and noticing the drinks in their hands. Sherlock had a margarita with salt, and a dry martini was resting in Eric's hand.

"Oh, John. Did you enjoy your walk?" Sherlock asked as he sipped his drink and licked the salt off the rim. He smacked his lips together and glanced at him expectantly.

"Very much so," John said with a twitch forming from the corner of his mouth. He looked at Eric. "Happy birthday," He wished him.

"Thanks. I would've never expected Sherlock to throw me a surprise party. No one's ever done that for me before," Eric said happily.

Sherlock's never done it before either.

"There's a first time for everything," Sherlock said.

"Many first times," Eric said with a smirk. 

"I'm going to get a drink," John said. He stood up and returned to his seat with scotch on the rocks. He was going to need a drink to handle anymore of this night.

"It really is lovely," Eric said as he fiddled with the sterling bracelet that had charms attached. 

It was a lovely bracelet. Engraved on one of the charms were the letters, "S.H" The charms had been carefully thought out. There was a camera to refer to his job, and a book to resemble Sherlock.

"I hope the heart wasn't too much," Sherlock said, referring to the third charm he had been hesitant to add. 

John felt his heart drop to the pit of his stomach. Sherlock never gave him a gift, not even for Christmas. In fact, John remembered when he gave Sherlock a gift, and the git tossed it aside.

"Not at all. It made me love it more actually," Eric said. John sat there in disbelief.

"Remember that time you saved me from a fire?" John said to Sherlock randomly.

That would show Eric. Sherlock had never done such a romantic gesture like saving Eric from a fire. That was how real relationships happened. You do anything to protect the one you care for. Didn't Sherlock know that? Perhaps, Sherlock couldn't see that he was in love too. Or he really was just married to his work.

"I'm not fond of that memory, but yes John," Sherlock answered sharply.

"Crazy times we had," John chuckled.

"It's fun going on cases," Eric said brightly.

That statement confused John. He thought he was a model. John tipped back his drink and let it burn his throat. Gosh, he needed ten more of these. Did they have any vodka left?

"Are you a police officer?" John asked.

"No. I'm a male model, but Sherlock has taken me on a few cases when I don't have a photo shoot," Eric said. HE DID NOW?!

Even Molly tried going on cases with Sherlock, and it didn't work. John thought he was the only crime solving partner for Sherlock. And here Sherlock was, easily replacing him with a taller, handsomer, and smarter male. What was the point of crime solving together if he was going to be left out? It hurt John to see how easily replaceable he was.

"Why didn't I know about these cases?" John asked, resting his free hand on his knee and giving Sherlock a scowl.

"You were busy working at the clinic. Eric's schedule is fairly loose," Sherlock said casually. His tongue managed to scrape the rest of the salt from his draining glass.

"And I'm not completely incompetent. You told me that yesterday," Eric said.

"That too," Sherlock said. John had had enough. He had heard enough. Whether Sherlock liked it or not, he wasn't going to give up without a fight. He couldn't just hand over the man he had been close with for years to some random sod. Even if it pained him to know that Eric was definitely better than him. Who was he kidding? Eric was a dreamboat, and John was a pudgy hobbit. But hell, he wanted to be Sherlock's pudgy hobbit. So what? He didn't have abs of steel or the perfect scruff. John was the one who had been by Sherlock's side no matter what, through all the ups and the downs.

"You know, Eric, I'm about to have a woman over," John said. Eric frowned.

"Okay," Eric said. He squirmed subtly in his seat.

"I just wanted to mention this because I tend to have really loud sex," John said. Sherlock looked taken aback by that comment.

"Pardon?" Sherlock said.

"Yeah. I'm sure you'd love to hear the sounds a woman makes in pleasure," John said. He'd never spoken like this before, but needed to say whatever he could to get Eric away. Homosexual males didn't like to hear more about sex and woman he presumed. He wouldn't know. John liked talking about sex and women.

"That's fascinating John. Good for you," Eric said.

"And my apologies if my bed creaks all night," John added.

"I think this is my queue to leave," Eric said as he started getting up.

"But we were having such fun," Sherlock said.

"I was with you," Eric said. He pecked Sherlock and left suddenly. Sherlock waited for the bottom door to close before speaking.

"Are you going to tell me what that was about, or am I supposed to deduce it?" Sherlock asked, shooting John a dirty look. John didn't feel remorse in the slightest.

"What?"

"You just scared off a person that is extremely important to the case I am working on," Sherlock said.

"I don't even know what the case is for," John said.

Why would John care about something he barely knew about? Sherlock wasn't involving him in any cases and was keeping him in the dark about reasons for this large fake relationship he had crafted. As far as John was concerned, Eric could kiss a bunch of bricks.

"It doesn't matter. You know my work is important to me," Sherlock said.

"I thought many things were important to you, but it's clear where your priorities lie," John said as he got up.

It was funny how Sherlock said fire exposed people's priorities, had saved John from a fire and was here treating him like utter rubbish. Either Sherlock was lying, or he was a huge hypocrite.

"What does that even mean?" Sherlock asked.

"What do you think it means?" John yelled as he slammed the door to his room.


	8. Will You Marry Me?

Sherlock was lying on the couch very bored and staring up at the ceiling. Eric wasn't available that day, and there weren't any interesting cases that caught his attention. All he could do was sit there and wait for something to happen. John entered the room and went to grab his laptop. Next to it was a little black box. Curious, John picked it up and revealed a shiny gold ring. What. The. Actual. Hell. 

"What is this?" John asked Sherlock as he raised the box high in the air. His breathing started to become heavy, and his heart began beating so quickly that it could win a race against a cheetah. There was something off about this ring.

"A ring. I thought that was fairly obvious," Sherlock said when he peered to see what the kerfuffle was about.

"Where did you get it?" John asked. He was going to ignore any snarky remarks his companion made. 

"It came from the jewelry store. Do you not know how to buy things?" Sherlock asked.

"Don't get smart with me. What's the ring for?" John asked. He had an inkling. But he had to make sure it was true.

"It's not important,"

"Sherlock, I know when you're trying to pull one over me. Tell me what this ring is for," John demanded. He was so close to snapping. His body was tensing and telling him to tackle Sherlock for being so difficult.

"Why does it matter?" Sherlock asked in annoyance.

"Because the last time you had a ring in your possession, you proposed so that you could break into a building," John said calmly. He had to calm himself down, or else Sherlock would find a new way to dodge the questions.

"Excellent observation," Sherlock said as he sat up.

"You're not serious," John said. No. There was no way he could be serious.

"About what?"

"Proposing to Eric. You've only been dating for three months," John said.

The realization that Sherlock was thinking of marrying Eric was starting to become very real to John. He couldn't bare to see Sherlock down the aisle with someone else. It would crush his soul. Where would John live? Would Sherlock abandon him and Baker Street for a guy he barely knew? He wouldn't do that to them. Right?

"I'm considering it. It will be the best way to meet his entire family," Sherlock said as if it really made no difference on his feelings.

"What do you need to meet his family for?" John asked.

"I have a strong suspicion that there are many family members working together on the string of murders. I won't know who until I meet his family," Sherlock said.

"You're going to marry someone, so that you can meet his potentially murderous family members?"

"Precisely," Sherlock said.

Not in a million bloody years was John going to let Sherlock just marry some bloke for a case. He would be legally bound to this man. And John didn't know how much more heartache he could take. He had lost him so many times. Losing Sherlock for the five hundredth time might actually break him.

"No. No, I'm not letting you do that," John said, shaking his head vigorously and stamping the box back on the table.

"John, I'm afraid you don't understand the concept of receiving a blessing. I don't need your blessing to marry Eric. I need his father's," Sherlock said lowly.

"I know what a blessing is Sherlock. I'm saying that I'm not going to sit here and watch you get engaged to someone you barely know," John said.

"What does it matter to you?"

"It matters a lot to me!" John said.

"Why?" Sherlock asked.

"Well for one, I don't want Eric over here more often," John said. He didn't want to tell him the real reason. He couldn't.

"Because?" 

"Because I'm sick of seeing him everywhere. I haven't been able to talk to you for months without his snarky comments," John said.

"You like my snarky comments," Sherlock said. When did he every think that and why?

"No I don't," John said. "But that doesn't matter. You're not marrying him," 

"You can't stop me, John," Sherlock said.

John panicked. He was doing his best to think of ways to dissuade Sherlock in the opposite direction. He felt guilty for leading Sherlock away from a much better guy. But screw it. This was the one chance he got to be around him, and he wasn't taking it for granted.

"I can tell him that you're only dating him for a case," John said.

"That's entirely inappropriate. All of my hard work would go down the drain," Sherlock said.

"I don't care! Sometimes, there are more important things in life than just work," John said.

"Like what?" Sherlock asked.

"Like friends! Your family, who you're dating. Me!" John said.

"Of course you're important to me. But as I said before, I'm married to my work," Sherlock said with ire rising in his voice. His brows furrowed. 

"That doesn't mean you have to literally marry your work," John said.

"That's kind of what it implies," Sherlock said.

Nothing was working. It was hard to win an argument with Sherlock. Sherlock couldn't even win an argument against himself. This conversation was starting to feel useless.

"Sherlock," John sighed and took in a deep breath. "For me, please. Don't. Get. Married," John requested.

"It shouldn't matter to you," Sherlock said.

"It should when I'm in love you!" John stopped. Crap.

He just admitted what he told himself he could never admit. He froze in his place, trying to register in his brain what he just did. He ruined everything. Sherlock was going to feel uncomfortable and ask him to live elsewhere. Damn you Eric!

"What?" Sherlock said, a smirk rising on his face. That was not the reaction he expected.

"You heard me. I don't have to repeat myself," John said. Sherlock started laughing. And he laughed hard. He was laughing so hard that he slapped his knee, and tears spilled from the corners of his eyes.

"What the hell is so bloody funny?" John asked, starting to feel embarrassed. He crossed his arms defensively and glared at him. How was this a joke?

"You," Sherlock said simply.

"This is not something to laugh at. I'm being serious," John said softly.

"I know. That's what makes it so brilliant," Sherlock giggled.

"What is that supposed to mean?" John was close to jumping out of a window. Out of all the possible scenarios that played in his head, this was by far the worst reaction. And this reaction hadn't even crossed his mind. He had never felt more humiliated.

"You don't think I know? John, you're so obvious that even a blind person could see your jealousy," Sherlock said as he wiped away the tears on his face.

"You're such a prick," John said as he started leaving the room. Sherlock jumped from the couch and grabbed John's wrist tightly.

"Wait," Sherlock said between chuckles.

"Let go of me," John said bitterly. He tugged his arm away but to no avail. Sherlock was getting stronger these days. He probably did stupid workouts with Eric.

"You didn't give me a chance to say it back," Sherlock said lightly. By this point, he had stopped laughing. A more serious expression brewed on his face. It almost felt genuine. Almost.

"What? Stay here so you can mess with me some more. I'd rather not," John said angrily. He turned to leave again but was forced to stay in his spot by that iron grip.

"I love you too," Sherlock said. John paused. He didn't look at him. His eyes were fixated on the door. This could be a trap. This could be an evil trap. 

"I'm in love with you too," Sherlock corrected.

"Then why are you marrying Eric?" John asked quietly.

"I'm not. I broke up with him yesterday," Sherlock affirmed

"Then why do you have that ring?" John asked.

Of course he was going to ask questions. Sherlock was the master manipulator. He could be messing with John for his own amusement. John wasn't going to give him the satisfaction until he was positive that Sherlock was being honest about his feelings. It was near impossible to convince him after all the crap Sherlock had put him through the past several months.

"Mycroft sent it to me a couple days ago in case I did need to propose," Sherlock explained.

"Would you have proposed?" John asked. He didn't know if it mattered at this point, but he was curious.

"If I had to," Sherlock said. He let go of John's wrist and watched it drop to his side. John turned around and faced the taller.

"Would you have married him?" John asked. His eyes were glued to the floor.

"I would've rejected him at the altar. I can deduce enough before the ceremony," Sherlock said. That made John feel better. 

"Did you two...um...you know," John asked in a hushed voice.

"Fornicate? No," Sherlock said. John took a step closer to him.

A new feeling washed over him. It was happiness. John was in love, and the feeling was mutual. The brilliant and handsome detective had somehow fallen in love with this pudgy hobbit. Sherlock wasn't the relationship type, but here he was seeming open to the possibility. His heart warmed. Love was starting to give him this high and make John feel like he could literally fly away at any given moment.

"It's not fair," John said gently.

"What's not?" Sherlock asked. He stepped towards John.

"He got to steal your first male kiss," John said.

"Want to be the first one that counts?" Sherlock asked.

"Oh God yes," John said.

The pair took no time. John grabbed Sherlock by the shirt collar, and Sherlock wrapped his thin arms around the other's waist. Their lips collided desperately together, grasping for each cherished movement. None of John's previous kisses had ever felt so right. This kiss felt like it was meant to happen. It was comfortable, despite the unfamiliarity of it all. Though it was perfect, it only lasted a short minute. Sherlock pulled away. John could see his eyes dilated so much that he might as well just have black eyes.

"Guess you can say I'm Sherlocked," John joked.

"Do shut up," Sherlock said with a soft smile grazing his lips. John returned the smile and leaned in to kiss the consultant once more. 

This had been right. This was what was supposed to happen. John and Sherlock were against the rest of the world, holding hands without handcuffs and loving each other for the rest of their days.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi! I hope you enjoyed the read. A friend and I from the Sherlock Amino thought it'd be a funny and cute story idea to write a jealous John. My friend created amazing artwork for it too!


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